Chapter 10: Nimby

Tuesday February 16

I looked at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight. My nose wasn’t broken, but it was red and swollen. I had a mouse under my left eye that was turning black. My forehead was also red from where Kevin O’Conner had jabbed me. I was lucky he hadn’t pummeled me more. I think that if he’d known I had training, he would have been more careful, and the outcome might have been different.

Fritz would be happy, because I was now fully on board with his security requests. I think when I came home, it just seemed as though the fence and cameras at home weren’t enough. I sent a text to Caryn to contact him and let him put the cameras in my parents’ and my cars. She sent me one back telling me that I was to meet her at Sullivan’s car dealership after dojo practice.

I skipped running and went downstairs for breakfast. Duke was wagging his tail big-time when we entered the kitchen and found Little David and Peggy. He went to the little boy and thoroughly gave him the sniff test. Peggy was facing the cabinets and had on a nightgown. I watched as she made a two-handed reach for bowls. It looked like oatmeal for breakfast.

I noticed something interesting: I didn’t think Peggy was wearing any underwear.

“Here, let me help you,” I offered, as I walked up behind her.

Instead of reaching for the bowls, I ran my hands up the back of her thighs to confirm my suspicions. Peggy pushed her butt back as she firmly planted her hands on the countertop. I went to my knees and planted my face under her nightgown.

“David!” she hissed.

My mouth found her sex and got busy. I felt Peggy tremble, and her legs slid apart to give me better access. She didn’t make a move to fight me off, so I worked to bring her pleasure.

“Sheeeit, your parents are going to catch us,” she whispered.

I reached into my pocket and found a condom. I stood up and Peggy tried to stand up straight, but I put my hand on her back to hold her in place. I dropped my pants and underwear around my knees and put on the condom.

“Yes!” she called out when I pushed home.

We were making a lot of noise, and at that moment I didn’t care if my parents heard or not. I was sure Peggy didn’t care, because she was the one making the noise. I tried to listen for my mom and dad and held still for a moment. Peggy began to twerk her butt back at me, doing all the work. She must have been horny.

She slammed back into me and I felt her cum on my dick. What was it with this poor girl? It had only been like two minutes.

That was when I heard someone on the stairs. I jerked out and pulled up my jeans, leaving the condom on.

“I tried to talk your dad into going into work late because of you two,” Mom said.

I don’t know who was more embarrassed, Dad, Peggy, or me. My mom thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever said. Let’s just say breakfast was full of awkward moments, and my mom had the time of her life.

I told Peggy she needed to be at the dealership later to help pick out her car, and made good my escape for the day.

My brief encounter with Peggy caused me a serious problem when I got to school. Mr. Happy wasn’t exactly happy. He’d had about three minutes of heaven before he’d been put away. First thing I did when I got to school was hit a bathroom and dispose of the condom. When I made my way to first-period class, PE, I found he was still hard. You try to stuff him into a jockstrap like that. I was more than a little self-conscious when I went to lift.

“What happened to you?” Wolf asked.

It took me a moment to realize he was talking about my battered face.

“Fight,” I said.

“Did you win?”

“I guess.”

Normally, for guys, that would have been enough, but this was a fight. If it had been an argument with my girlfriend, I could have skated.

“Do I need to go get Gina?” Wolf threatened.

“I got into a fight. No big deal,” I said.

Wolf looked around the weight room and got everyone’s attention.

“David got into a fight, and it looks like he lost. Gather around, and he’s going to tell us what happened.”

I was about to get into another fight. Wolf just gave me a smirk.

“It’s on YouTube,” I said.

“Of course it is,” Wolf said, exasperated. “Go get your tablet.”

Boy, was he bossy. When I got back, Coach Rector was there waiting with the rest of the boys from our PE class. I gave him a curious look.

“They said it had to be either an epic fight or you got beat up by a girl. I’m not missing that,” he said.

There were three videos to pick from. I selected the one that was taken from the back of first class and included the confrontation between Mr. O’Conner and the copilot. I gave them the setup before I played the video.

“I had a guy try and strong-arm money out of me on my flight back from New York. After my last fight, my mom made certain things clear, so I was in no mood to deal with this guy. Turns out he’s a professional boxer, and after the way he hit me, I wish I’d never met him.”

I’d not had a clear view of the actual punch that took down the copilot. It was one of those deals where a guy doesn’t expect it, and the next thing he knows he’s face-first on the ground. It was a brutal shot, and the poor copilot stiffened up for a second and then just collapsed. I stopped the video.

“At this point I was officially worried,” I admitted.

“I would have run,” Tim said.

“I had nowhere to go, or I would have let him try to catch me,” I said, and restarted the video.

The actual fight didn’t take more than ninety seconds. When it was going on, it seemed to last much longer. How I survived the hook to the ribs was all down to Fritz and my training with him. It was a shot that made everyone cringe, me included. I was also lucky I deflected the combination to my face that did all the damage. If I hadn’t at least deflected the shots, I would have been down for the count.

I watched the crowd’s reaction, and to a man they were all wincing each time I was hit. Then it was like watching TV wrestling when the good guy weathers the storm and comes back. When Kevin threw the overhand right and I hip-tossed him, they actually cheered. Then they got quiet when they saw me pounce on him and begin to punch his lights out.

“Jesus, man,” Wolf muttered.

“Is that what Cassidy’s teaching you?” Tim asked.

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“Well, it’s settled then. I used to joke around that you were our designated fighter. Now it’s true,” Wolf said, which lightened the mood.

“Everybody back to work!” Coach Rector called out.

I’d forgotten all about Mr. Happy. Watching the fight again reminded me that I was lucky I surprised Kevin, or that fight would have been much, much worse. It was obvious he could punch through my defenses and inflict damage. My face was proof of that. A couple more combinations and it would have been lights out.

At lunchtime, we all met to talk about the class project. Alan had come up with a solution for his app for people without phones. Wolf had helped him create a pedestal for a tablet. It had a lock on it so no one could pinch it. I pointed out I would just take the whole thing, which had my two friends scratching their heads. Alan had carried it into the meeting, after all.

We got approval for the picnic tables and the homeless fundraiser. The shop classes would be working with Wolf and Jan to build them while Stacy would organize the painting. She asked Wolf to have them all painted a base color. Once that was done, she would get people like Halle and me to be in charge of developing designs which would be added later.

We had permission to use a school bus for gathering supplies for the homeless. Brit wanted a short bus, but I told them that we needed to think bigger. We all decided that it was better to have too much room than not enough. I planned to get the school bus filled. Alan said he could get the GoFundMe page set up. Stacy and Brit volunteered to get the flyer design created. I suggested that they send it to Lily to look at. What I would do was have her send it to Frank and have his people look at it and provide feedback. I had to pay him anyways; might as well get my money’s worth.

Speaking of Frank ... he organized a press conference to be held during the second half of lunch. Caryn had talked to the school, and I was able to do it in the pressroom in the Field House. It wasn’t nearly the zoo LA had been. We had four local TV stations and three newspapers.

Frank had a prepared statement for me which said that Mr. O’Conner had started it and I’d been attacked. There were a few follow-up questions, and it was over. I was becoming an old pro at this.

After school, I practiced hitting, and we started throwing when I wasn’t helping one of the guys in the batting cage. It looked like all the skill players in football planned to play seven-on-seven football. That meant the linemen were playing baseball with me. We might not be the fastest team, but we would be strong.

Jim had gained fifteen pounds of muscle in the last two-and-a-half months of working out. He was now up to 265 pounds. His six-five frame carried the weight well. The good news was it didn’t look like he’d lost a step. The Callahan twins were also packing on the muscle. I’d talked both Johan and Milo Bauer into joining us as well. Johan was already strong, but he was becoming a beast. He’d played catcher in Little League, and we desperately needed a catcher since Tim wasn’t allowed to play any sports this spring because of his knee.

Moose had had me in to talk about pre-season training, and I’d seen his initial lineup.

(Batting Order) Name – Position:
(8) Johan Bauer – Catcher
(4) Jim Ball – 1st Base / Right Field
(5) Brock Callahan – 2nd Base / Pitcher
(3) Bryan Callahan – Short Stop / Pitcher
(2) Yuri Antakov – 3rd Base / Catcher
(6) Milo Bauer – Right Field / 1st Base
(1) David Dawson – Center Field / Short Stop
(7) Nick Rake – Left Field / Infield

Bench:
Neil Presley – Outfield / First Base
Wayne Turk – Infield / Outfield
Ray Quinn – Infield / Outfield
Bert Nelson – Pitcher / Outfield
Justin Tune - Pitcher / Infield

“How come you have me penciled in to lead off?” I asked.

“Two reasons. The first is we don’t have anyone else with your speed. The second is we only play seven innings. I want to maximize your at bats. If you bat leadoff, you’re guaranteed at least three at bats a game. With you at cleanup, you’re only guaranteed two,” he said.

I wasn’t sure how that would work out—I felt I held more value as a cleanup hitter than a leadoff man. The mindset was completely different at that position in the batting order. The leadoff hitter’s job was to get on any way he could, and then pick up bases. It was up to everyone else to drive him in. I would leave it to Moose. He’d been doing this longer than I’d been alive. I trusted he knew what he was talking about.

Before dojo practice, Shiggy took Cassidy, her dad, Fritz and me to his office. He wanted to talk about my fight on the plane. He played the video for everyone before he talked. Everyone but Fritz had already seen it.

“First of all, I don’t see how you could have avoided the confrontation,” Shiggy said.

“If I had anywhere to go, I would have run,” I admitted.

Hindsight being 20/20, that would have been the best option.

“I understand Mr. O’Conner is a professional boxer. From watching the video, it was apparent you had no chance going head-to-head with him. I think if he’d had any martial arts training at all, he would have been able to handle your hip-toss and get back into the fight.

“I’ll admit I hadn’t thought you had the killer instinct in you, but you demonstrated at the end of the fight that you do. The last fight you had in LA, you were acting like you were in a practice session,” Shiggy chastised.

“He and I’ve had a talk about that,” Cassidy said. “I’m not sure he should have stopped so soon. He trusted that when he got off, the man would keep his word.”

“I agree. O’Conner was a much superior puncher, but I think if he’d tried anything funny, David had figured out that he had other skills that would have protected him,” Fritz said.

“I saw the fight go out of his eyes as I pounded him. I think he came to his senses and realized he’d messed up,” I said.

“I think you got lucky,” Coach Hope said. “You have to always remember that there are people out there who are much better fighters than you are. That first punch to the ribs could have staggered you enough to allow him to crowd you and use his superior punching ability. The way it is, he marked you up pretty good.”

“The question is, what are we going to do about it? If David had the room, he could have used his kicks, but he needs to learn to fight in a confined space. I think we need to teach him to be a better puncher and how to defend himself when someone has the power that guy had,” Shiggy said.

“I used to box. I can work with him on that,” Coach Hope said. “We’ll just have to get the right gear.”

It was decided I would get some boxing instruction mixed in with my other martial arts training. Cassidy spotted the little smile on my face when we were practicing our forms.

“You’re thinking about getting to punch my dad, aren’t you?” she asked.

I just smiled bigger.

Mom, Dad, Peggy, Little David and I all met Caryn and Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan at the car dealership. I needed to lease something for Peggy to transport Little David and my son around in.

“Caryn told us you wanted something large enough to take several people in that was nice and not a minivan,” Mr. Sullivan said.

“There will be times I’ll drive it, and I just can’t see myself driving a minivan around,” I admitted.

Over the next hour we drove several SUVs. We looked at and eliminated the Ford Expedition, Chevrolet Tahoe and GMC Yukon for different reasons. The Yukon and Tahoe were basically the same car. It came down to the Cadillac Escalade and Lincoln Navigator. Mr. Sullivan pointed out that although the Lincoln Navigator belongs to the class of luxury SUVs, and was a status symbol, its design was considered obsolete. They planned many upgrades in next year’s model. So by a process of elimination we settled on the Escalade.

“We have one more we want to show you,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “I’m not sure if you’d be interested in something used, but we received a call that a dealer in Missouri got something special in, so we had them ship it over for you to take a look at.”

“What makes it special?” Dad asked.

“Well, I think David asked for something that would seat more than five people. Ford used to have a huge SUV called the Excursion, but they quit making the three-quarter-ton eight-seater in 2005. For those customers needing the extra pulling capacity and three rows of seating, the 2500-series Suburban and Yukon XL were the only choices ... that is, until GM cut production of those as well.

“Hennessey Performance has partnered with Ford to take their F-150 SVT Raptor SuperCrew series pickup truck and turn it into an SUV. The F-150 Raptor was designed by Ford as a great off-road truck. It has six preset modes for the truck, depending on terrain and driving conditions. Normal mode is well-suited for everyday driving, while Sport mode offers higher performance during on-road driving. Weather mode offers confident control in rain, snow or ice. For muddy and sandy terrain, you can choose Mud and Sand mode. Baja mode is helpful during high-speed desert running, and Rock mode is your go-to for low-speed rock-crawling,” Mrs. Sullivan said.

My mom gave me a look that indicated she didn’t seem to like the off-road options.

“What they created was the Ford Hennessey VelociRaptor SUV. The original list price for this SUV was over $160,000. They’ve only made a little over 400 of these. The one we want to show you is two years old and has been sitting on the lot in Missouri for four months. They sent out a call to see if anyone might have a client that would buy it. They’re willing to take a bath on it to move it.”

I looked at Mom and Dad, and they both nodded.

“Let’s see it,” I said.

Mr. Sullivan went around back and drove out a beast. It was black. The first thing that caught my eye was the large block Ford logo across the front grill. When I say black, I mean all the trim was black. The only white was on the driver’s door, where it said ‘VelociRaptor 650’ and ‘Supercharged’ in script below that. On the back side window the name ‘Hennessey’ was also in white. The wheels and tires were all black, and they’d tinted the windows black to the point you couldn’t see into the back seats. The Cadillac Escalade screamed luxury, while the Ford Hennessey VelociRaptor looked menacing.

“They designed the Raptor pickup trucks to be factory-ready to run Baja,” Mr. Sullivan said as he got out of it.

That earned him a look from my mom.

“Because the suspension is designed to take on the off-road, it’s an extremely comfortable ride. The man that bought this had five children and wanted something he could take his family camping in,” Mr. Sullivan continued.

I smiled when Peggy handed me Little David.

“I think I’d better test-drive this one,” Peggy said, and then looked at my mom and Caryn. “You want to go with me?”

“We better test-drive it before David gets ahold of it,” my mom said.

Mrs. Sullivan went with them. Mr. Sullivan continued to run down the stats of the car. Then he said something that caught my attention.

“The previous owner had them put in a twin-turbo supercharger setup, which I was told they tuned so that it pushes the 6.2-liter V-8 to 1032 horsepower. It is reported to do 0-to-60 in 4 seconds. Of course they beefed up the brakes to compensate for that much horsepower. I took it out for a little spin, and it pinned me to the seat when I put the pedal down. It’s a quiet ride, and I found I was doing over 100 miles per hour and didn’t even realize it.

“It’s not your Charger Hellcat, but it can hold its own. I think you’ll like it,” Mr. Sullivan said.

“How much are we talking? David plans to lease it,” Dad said.

“I can get you into it for the same money as the new Cadillac.”

When the girls got back, Mom pointed to the Ford.

“He’ll take that one.”

“Do you want to drive it?” Mr. Sullivan asked.

I looked at Peggy and she nodded that the she wanted the Ford Hennessey VelociRaptor. She had to drive it on a daily basis, but I glanced at Dad to make sure, and he gave me a little shake of the head. I guess I didn’t need to drive it.

“No, I trust them to decide. Write it up,” I said.

Dad and Caryn went and worked out the details. They let me sit in it while they did that. I checked the odometer and saw it had almost thirty thousand miles on it. The interior was equivalent to the pickup truck version, which was nice. It was comfortable. I climbed into the middle-row bench seat and there was plenty of legroom, even for me. Even with the back row seating up, there was a ton of storage area. The back seat could be folded down, and there was enough room for me to stretch out at an angle. The back hatch was unique. The back window could be opened without opening anything else. The bottom had two half-doors that opened outward like an ambulance.

I could see loading up the guys and taking some trips, or it had plenty of room for five car seats for little ones.

I walked around the exterior, and it had a couple of dings, but I would expect that in a used car. While I would never pay what they wanted for a new one, I could live with the used price. I felt Peggy would be safe with the kids in this car. I worried a little bit about the additional horsepower, but Peggy wasn’t the irresponsible type. I might take it out and put it through its paces, but never with any of the little ones on board.

When we left, I made a point to thank the Sullivans for taking care of me.

Wednesday February 17

I skipped the dojo tonight to go on an adventure with Brook. The weather had warmed up for the last several days, and we got a call that the ice was off the pond and we would do our first open-water dive. We stopped at the dive shop and were outfitted with wetsuits. We had already each bought a tank, regulator/octo, mask, snorkel, BCD, dive belt and fins. I think I figured out why the class was so cheap.

I’d balked at buying a wetsuit because I never planned to dive when the water was this cold ever again. Brook, on the other hand, decided she wanted one. It wasn’t like it would break the bank; the one she bought cost her around $400. I just couldn’t see getting into the water when you’d need one.

What sucked was they didn’t really have one in stock that would fit my long arms and legs. I either had to pass on the dive, or suck it up and leave a couple of inches of skin uncovered.

“You’re a pussy, Dawson,” Brook teased me.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

“Good boy. For spring break we’re going somewhere warm where we can take advantage of this. How does the Caribbean sound?”

“Better than this,” I agreed. “Okay, deal.”

We loaded everything up and followed everyone to a farm near the highway. In the Midwest, the land is flat. To put in a bridge, they need soil to build the ramps to raise the road. Instead of hauling in dirt, they would make a deal with a farmer to put in what’s called a ‘borrow pit.’ They dug out all the dirt in a square hole next to where the bridge would be built. Those holes filled in with groundwater.

If a farmer wanted, the state would give him fish to put into the ponds. To give the fish cover, many farmers would make artificial reefs out of different things. For the pond we were using, the farmer collected Christmas trees. He tied cinder blocks to them and just left them on the ice. When it thawed, the trees would sink to the bottom and give smaller fish cover.

We met the farmer at a gate and he let us in. He then had us follow him down a dirt road to the borrow pit. When we got out of the cars, he gave us a rundown.

“This end of the pond is shallower. We added gravel and then sand to make a nice beach for the grandkids. As you can see, there’s a levee around the outside of the pond. That prevents any runoff from the fields from getting into the pond. The fertilizer can mess up the ecosystem and kill off the fish. We put some Christmas trees on the ice. I was hoping you could check them out and make sure they didn’t stack up on each other.”

Our instructor made sure we had all our equipment on and it was working. Brook and I were the first two he went out with. He told us to walk backwards into the water, because you would trip over your flippers if you didn’t.

When we first got in, the water was frickin’ cold as it got into your wetsuit, but your body warmed it up so it wasn’t too bad. Around my face, wrists and ankles it remained cold, but I gutted it out. The visibility wasn’t great. I could probably see six feet.

Our instructor had us do several of the things he’d taught us in the pool. He knocked our masks off, and we had to show him we could put them back on and use the air from our regulator to force the water out. We had to share a regulator for a few minutes; this was in case a tank ever failed. You could share with your dive buddy using the octo. He then set us free to go explore.

For me, the coolest moment was when we slipped into the deeper part of the pond. With visibility only being six feet, we soon lost sight of the surface. It seemed like we were traveling blind in a green glowing fog bank that got darker as we traveled lower. When we reached the bottom, we were in another world. I felt like I was back in New York City where everything’s covered in grime, except we were all alone. The only sound was from our regulators and the bubbles they gave off.

Brook reached down and brushed the bottom, which caused a big cloud of silt to form around her. She glided out of it and we began to work our way up the side of the borrow pit. When we reached about ten feet, we began to see fish. They weren’t moving much because of the cold water. We saw some nice catfish and bass amongst the Christmas trees. It seemed the fish appreciated the cover. While I had a great time, I could see that diving in warmer water with better visibility would be a lot more fun.

Getting out was an adventure. I quickly peeled off the wetsuit and jumped into the Jeep to get warm. Brook wasn’t far behind me. I had brought blankets we could wrap ourselves in while I had the heat on high.

“Glad you did it?” Brook asked.

“Yeah, this was fun. I really like your idea for spring break. Let’s get that set up,” I said.

Thursday February 18

I skipped the dojo again tonight. The Zoning Board met the third Thursday of each month. Mr. Orange from the Homeless Coalition had been on me to attend, so I finally agreed. I found my parents had company when I got home: my grandmother and Uncle John were there, along with Caryn and Kendal.

“What brings everyone here?” I asked.

“You don’t think we’d miss your first foray into politics, do you?” Grandma Dawson asked.

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” I said.

“You might be surprised,” Uncle John said.

“I got a letter today from Mr. Morris that you need to read,” Dad said. “It lays out our issues with the NCAA as he sees them. Why don’t you read it, and then we’ll talk about it.”

Dad handed me what looked to be 25 pages. My mom wanted to read it too, so as I completed a page I would hand it to her. I didn’t notice, but it was passed around to everyone there.

Regarding: David A. Dawson / NCAA Certification of Amateurism

PRIVILEGED ATTORNEY-CLIENT COMMUNICATION
CONTAINS ATTORNEY WORK PRODUCT

Issues and Initial Conclusions:
1. David’s acceptance of a plane ride from a person meeting the definition of a booster, to work out for the University of Florida football coaching staff.